


outbopped the buzzard and the oriole

by blythely



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Infinite Crisis, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythely/pseuds/blythely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like Jason has this superpower for fucking over Dick's business partnerships. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	outbopped the buzzard and the oriole

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Infinite Crisis. Remember when Dick was undercover and working for Deathstroke?

 

[Jason, whistling:

all the little birds  
on jaybird street  
love to hear the robin going--]

* * *

Dick chooses his words carefully.

"... the Red Hood split as well. He's very good."

Waits.

Batman looks at him. His jaw works. "Yes," Bruce says, "he's very good."

Tick, click. But Batman wasn't thinking about villains and motives, Dick thinks now. The concentration wasn't problem-solving.

The tone wasn't assessing.

It was--what?

* * *

"It works to your advantage, kid. Diffusion of bad-guy attention."

"Luthor's not an idiot. It'll make him more suspicious." Dick swings the blade into his left hand and starts the exercise again. "Red Hood's just a thug out for money."

Slade blocks the reverse slice and Dick's blade is wrenched from his grip, spins an arc up into the air. "So are you." He catches the hilt as Dick is about to dodge, and grazes Dick's cheek with the steel, face creased with suspicion. "And your reflexes are better than that."

"Mmm," Dick concurs, "you would have caught it."

"Reckless to chance something like that," Slad pulls the blade back, but doesn't step away.

Dick closes his eyes and lets himself smile. 

* * *

_There's recognition, yes. But perhaps also pride?_

* * *

It's inevitable that Slade extends the invitation further. It's also inevitable that he does it in a manner calculated to piss Dick off as much as possible, so Dick shouldn't really be surprised when instead of Rose waiting for him there is a car. It's the sort of slightly flashy black sports car that on first glance looks like a cheap Japanese import and on second glance--if you can be bothered--has about half a million dollars worth of modifications.

Dick hasn't eaten all day so he does actually takes the lollipop Slade is holding out.

"What?" Dick says, sliding into the passenger seat. "You're not a stranger." The interior is tricked out with surveillance equipment. Dick feels at home. He considers putting his feet up on the dashboard.

Slade gives him a sideways glance and does the knuckle-cracking thing just before accelerating the car, so Dick just slouches and unwraps the candy. It's vanilla, which is probably some kind of joke.

"Where are we going?"

"To the mall," drawls Red Hood, even though Dick checked the back seat before he got in. The voice synthesizer does nothing to hide amusement, or maybe that's his body language. Or the Beretta that he's adjusting from automatic to single-fire and making damn sure that Dick can see in the rear-view mirror.

* * *

_It's like Jason has this superpower for fucking over Dick's business partnerships. Or something._

* * *

[Jason:

... so we have this conversation after that, like you do, you know, and it's all about what the view is like through your uniquely shaded psychosis-tinted glasses, how it's difficult to get a decent burger at three a.m. when you've got some guys' arterial blood on your jacket and one of those fragile waitresses, the kind with the dyed-black hair that's blonde at the the roots, doing some sort of sociology degree--when they start hyperventilating and drop your coffee, that fucking sucks; yeah, so just when I think he's going to give me an actual handshake like this is some corporate negotiation--

Ha, yeah, I guess if you want to think of it that way, maybe it is.

No, but then? I'm quick but he's--well, you know. You've seen him, he's a fucking big guy. Strong, and he has his knee in my back, which--I have to let him, right, because one day I'm going to need to actually get away and there's no point giving away that sort of information for free.

Pay attention, is what he tells me, so, okay, I pay attention.]

* * *

Slade introduces Dick as "my associate" and delivers a curt rundown on where they're heading. Dick heard it earlier. He concentrates elsewhere.

Later when he's cataloguing and recording details--a habit that's no longer necessary and probably even dangerous--he realises that the first thing that gave the Red Hood away was the stacked heels in his boots.

* * *

"Hey, bro'."

Dick doesn't look away from the target, just makes extra sure that the shuriken sinks right between the eye-points. Does it again, and again, until he's out of equipment and the silence is perfectly taut.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

"You must not be used to that much." Jason crosses his arms.

Training Rose has been good for his patience, but Dick still clenches his jaw. "I liked you so much better when you were dead."

 


End file.
